


44. Over the Knee

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [44]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	44. Over the Knee

_**Sam and Ryan[](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)**_[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/): over the knee  
 **players only. took place yesterday.**

Standing on the back porch, Ryan shuts off the outside shower and peels off his wetsuit, toweling dry. He makes sure his hair is only damp and not dripping before he carefully puts his collar on, smoothing his fingers over it indulgently before he steps into the house. Sam is on the couch in front of the television, and Ryan grabs a couple fresh beers from the fridge, cracking one open for his lover. "Hey," he says, handing over the bottle with a smile. "Can't keep up with me, huh?" He grins cheekily and lies down in his favorite position, legs hooked over the couch's end, head on Sam's thigh. "You cut out early."

"I was tired," Sam says, sliding his hand into Ryan's hair. The last few days they've been trying to make the most of every bit of sunlight and his usual twelve hour days have stretched to fourteen and sixteen. "And you looked like you were having fun. I didn't want you to come back in just ‘cause I was."

"Mmm. They've been working you really hard," Ryan says. He's seen so little of Sam this past week, and he's glad he doesn't keep normal hours like most people, or he wouldn't see his lover at all. "Watching anything good?"

"No." Sam laughs, taking a sip of his beer. "I've just been flicking from one channel to another." He hands the remote over to Ryan. "You can see if there's anything you want to watch."

"Eh." Ryan shrugs, not overly interested. He flips through the channels idly, then stops when an unfamiliar horror movie catches his eye. "There we go." Sitting up again, he climbs over the back of the couch and moves behind his lover, starting a slow massage of Sam's shoulders. "Do they pamper you at all, on set?"

"Not like this." Sam shakes his head, groaning softly. "Mostly just with food and shit."

"Lots of 'Yes, Mr. Worthington,' and 'Whatever you'd like, Mr. Worthington'?" Ryan asks, grinning. He slides his thumb over a tight knot of muscle, digging in to release the strain.

Sam laughs then groans again. Fuck. Ryan's hands are magic as far as he's concerned. "Yeah. Everyone bringing you drinks and food and hovering over you like you're going to explode or something if they're not right there to meet your every fucking whim," he says, that part of things what he likes least about being an actor.

"Gee, that's terrible," Ryan murmurs, bending down to graze his lips over Sam's throat. "I can see how that would get really old, really fast." Especially for someone as no-bullshit as Sam. "And anyway, you've got a boy to wait on you hand and foot. You don't need no stinkin' P.A."

"Yeah, but you're at home," Sam says. "I need to bring you to set, let you work out the knots and other things there," he murmurs, eyes sparkling as he turns his head to kiss Ryan.

"I'd love that," Ryan murmurs against Sam's lips, and of course his mind immediately sticks on 'other things.' "Has anyone else got a key to your trailer? Or can you chain me up naked in there?"

Sam's breath hitches, his cock stiffening instantly. "No one else has a key. But I'd only be able to come see you every couple of hours. You'd be okay with that?"

"Depends," Ryan tells him with a grin. "Would you leave me a book and a bowl of water?"

Sam nods. "Of course." Reaching up to hook a finger through one of the O rings on Ryan's collar, tugging him in for another, harder kiss. "Maybe gates and a plug too." Grinning wickedly.

"Christ." Ryan's cock starts to swell in an instant, responding to that hold, those words... "Better be absolutely certain the door locks, then," he whispers, giving up on the massage entirely and pouring all his attention into kissing Sam.

"That would certainly be one way to come out," Sam murmurs, licking between Ryan's lips and tugging on his collar. "Want you on this side of the couch."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan circles the end of the couch and sits down next to his lover, his hands instantly going to tangle in Sam's hair. Kissing him hungrily.

"Did I say you could kiss me?" Sam teases, pulling back.

Ryan takes a breath then shakes his head. "No, Sir," he whispers, letting go. "You didn't say I could sit on the couch, either," he murmurs, wondering if Sam meant for him to go to his knees. "Do you want me at your feet?"

"No. I want you over my lap," Sam says, his cock straining against his shorts.

God, _that_ sends a shock through Ryan's system. He swallows hard and nods, slowly stretching out over Sam's thighs, feet on the floor to brace himself. He's fully aroused now. And a little scared.

Sam shifts a little under Ryan's weight, getting his boy's cock between his thighs. He rubs his hand over Ryan's ass, rubbing in small circles. "Is that what kind of a boy you are?" he says softly, trying not to grin. "One who takes liberties with his sir?"

 _Oh god._ "I'm sorry, Sir," Ryan whispers, and he has to work not to rub his erection against Sam's leg. That tone in his voice... "I didn't mean to-- I wasn't-- I just like touching you," he says weakly.

"Because you're a slut. A dirty filthy whore who can't control himself," Sam says, hand still rubbing over Ryan's ass, over those smooth tanned cheeks, which he hasn't marked nearly enough.

"Yes, Sir." Ryan winces. It shouldn't be possible to sound so sexy when saying things like that. "I can't control myself around you. I just want you so much."

" _You_ want?" Sam shakes his head, really starting to get into the role. "Sounds like you have your priorities messed up, boy. Maybe you need a lesson to remind you."

"No, Sir. Please don't punish me," Ryan begs, but it's only half-hearted; it's the best he can do right now, though. He rocks gently against Sam's thigh, once. "I'll do better, I will."

"I don't think you will," Sam says, shaking his head. "I think you're too much of an incorrigible slut to remember without some kind of incentive." And with that, he lifts his hand and brings it in, palm flat and hard against Ryan's cheeks.

Ryan jumps, jerking against Sam's leg. "That's..." he licks his lips, "that's your idea of an incentive?"

Sam freezes. "Is that your idea of being a respectful boy?" He slaps Ryan across the back of the head. Not too hard but enough to smart. All part of the game.

"Ow! No, just..." Ryan frowns down at his hands, splayed against the floor. "No."

"You want incentive?" Sam growls softly. "I'll give you incentive." Leaning in, his upper body pinning Ryan to his lap, he lays into him with his other hand, palm connecting sharply a half dozen times with both cheeks.

Ryan cries out, unable to catch his breath between strikes. "Fuck!" He grits his teeth, drawing up will from god knows where, and snaps, "I forgot. What am I supposed to learn from this?"

"How about to stop being a mouthy little fucker and just take whatever your sir wants to give you?" Sam says, slapping Ryan even harder, one blow right after the other, the sound of flesh against flesh making his cock throb.

Every smack rocks Ryan against Sam's thigh, rubbing his cock until it leaks. Inextricably twining pleasure with pain. "God fuck damn it!" he shouts, clenching his hands into fists.

"You're such a fucking painslut," Sam observes, never pausing even once as he continues to rain down blows across both of Ryan's cheeks, watching as the skin turns bright red and then darker again. "Such a little bitch for it."

"Fuck you!" Ryan growls, his entire body flushing hot with shame, anger. Impossible lust. "You're a fucking sadist! I'm not - damn it! - not the only fucked-up one here."

"No, but you're the one who's gonna get fucked," Sam says, stopping just long enough to push two rough fingers into Ryan's hole without any warning and twist.

Ryan shouts and furious tears well up in his eyes. He defiantly shoves back against Sam's fingers, forcing them deeper.

Sam just shakes his head and works a third and then a fourth finger into Ryan, raking them over his prostate. "That's it. Go on. Show me what a fucking whore you are."

Ryan doesn't even know what to say to that. What's he supposed to do, deny it? He's already fucking himself hard on Sam's fingers, his ass on fire, his cock a throbbing weight between Sam's thighs. "You love it," he spits out. "Fuckin' lick it up."

Sam laughs. Pulls his fingers out of Ryan's ass and goes back to spanking him. Hard. So fucking hard his shoulder aches with every blow.

Tears spill over Ryan's cheeks now, and he can't even tell whether he's more angry or more turned on. Hell, he's not even sure _why_ he's angry. "Thought you were going to fuck me," he gasps, rocking with every blow. "Can't fucking get it up?"

"I _am_ going to fuck you," Sam grits out, whaling even harder on Ryan, determined to make him break, make him beg for Sam to stop. "When I'm good and fucking ready, bitch."

"When you... you..." Ryan can't even get the words out. "Oh fuckme," he sobs, pushing against his lover, resisting with his body. "Sydney. Sydney."

Fuck. Godfuckingdamnit. Sam sits back, his hands raised, everything coming to a halt.

Everything hurts, right down to Ryan's fingertips, pain pulsing through him with every heartbeat. He slips down to the floor and lays his head in Sam's lap. And just lets himself cry for a minute.

Sam exhales loudly, hand hovering over Ryan's shoulder, unsure whether he should touch him, try to console him. Fuck. He doesn't even know what the hell's going on. Didn't have one single fucking solitary clue Ryan was going to safeword on him.

Sitting back, Ryan rubs his hands over his face, smearing tear tracks on his cheeks. "Sorry," he whispers hoarsely, and lays his hands lightly on Sam's thigh.

"What just happened?" Sam asks, still struggling to take it in, that they've had two scenes go pear-shaped in not even as many weeks.

Ryan shrugs. "I thought if I held out, you'd fuck me," he answers, shifting to a more comfortable position on the floor. "Couldn't hold out anymore."

"And you didn't think begging me to stop or fuck you might be better than safewording?" Sam asks, unable to help the hint of anger in his voice. Especially at that shrug.

Ryan's gaze snaps to Sam in surprise, and his eyes flash. "You're fucking pissed off at me for safewording?"

"No, I'm fucking pissed off at you for shrugging it off," Sam says. "I don't know what just happened there but-- fuck it, never mind. I'm in the wrong," he says, picking up his beer. "It just seemed to me like there was more to it."

 _Oh shit._ Ryan is wary in an instant, worried Sam is shutting down on him. Shutting him out. "I'm not shrugging it off," he says softly. "I didn't safeword last time when I should've, and I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. I don't know why I got so angry, either, but it bothered me when you called me a whore."

"I thought you wanted me to call you names? Every fucking filthy name I can think of was how you put it in your email," Sam says, equally as softly, still confused as hell. "Why would whore bother you? You know I don't mean it."

"You weren't wrong, though," Ryan says, thinking about it. "I am a whore for you."

"Then why did it bother you?" Sam asks, taking a sip of his beer.

"Maybe that was why," Ryan murmurs, trying to work it through. "Up until that point it felt like we were just playing around, not really being ourselves, you know? But that one really hit home. I, um." He flushes. "I spread myself around before you."

"But that doesn't make you a whore," Sam says quietly. If it does, they both are. "Do you regret it?"

"Not at the moment. But I would regret it if it changed how you think about me," Ryan says, laying his hand on Sam's knee. Needing to touch him in even the smallest way.

Covering Ryan's hand with his, Sam gives his lover a smile. "There's not a damn thing that could change the way I think about you," he says. "And it's not like I thought you were hanging around, waiting for your knight in shining armour to come along before we met."

Tension eases throughout Ryan's body at that smile, and he feels himself finally start to breathe normally. Linking their fingers together, he kneels up for a kiss.

Sam kisses Ryan, brushing their lips together gently than a little more firmly. Deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into Ryan's mouth, tasting him. Exploring every inch. "I love you so much," he whispers. "But I have something I want you to do for me."

There's that shard of fear again. "Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, easing back to look at him.

"Go get the pen and paper from beside the phone."

Ryan's surprised by the order, but he gets to his feet, wincing a little at the pull of abused flesh. He's back at Sam's side in less than a minute, handing over the requested items with a curious look.

Sam stretches out fully on the couch, pillow behind his head and motions for Ryan to join him. "Lie on top of me," he says.

"Anytime," Ryan murmurs, and carefully lies down, somehow managing not to topple them both off the narrow couch. God, it feels good just to be touching Sam again, even as casually as this, aftershocks of their fight still rioting through him.

Sam smiles. "I want us to make a list," he says, shifting a little under Ryan, making sure they're lined up nicely, cock against cock, even through the fabric of his shorts. "All the filthy names we can think of and I want to know which ones are okay and which are likely to make you want to deck me."

"Okay." Ryan laughs a little, but starts writing. Bitch, twat, dumbshit, shithead, and cunt all go on one side of the page. Whore and pussy go on the opposite side. Ryan feels a bit ridiculous with this exercise, but he understands why Sam's having him do it. Understands and appreciates. He shows the list to his lover. "And, you know, variations thereof."

"What about slut?" Sam asks, sliding his hands down Ryan's back, fingers gently moving over his cheeks. "And dirty and filthy put with any of those?"

"Dirty filthy slut. All fine," Ryan agrees, shivering a little beneath Sam's caress. "I don't know why the difference. I mean, I can be a slut just for you, but whore makes it sound like anyone can have me."

"I can see that," Sam says, letting his fingers dip into Ryan's cleft, tease over his hole. "So if I were to say you're nothing but my dirty little fucktoy..." one pressing slightly in, "you'd be okay with that?"

Ryan's breath draws in, his eyes slipping shut. It's like being hypnotized. "Yeah," he whispers, spreading his thighs a bit more to open himself up.

"Nothing but a hole for me to use, fuck, fill..." Sam murmurs, adding a finger with each word and pushing them slowly deeper.

"Your dirty hole," Ryan whispers, his breath shuddering out. He licks his lips and flexes around Sam's fingers, drawing them even deeper. "Your dirty boy. Use me."

"You never asked what the tenth item was, the other night," Sam whispers, twisting his fingers into Ryan, spreading them to stretch him open.

Ryan blinks, wincing a little at the stretch. "I thought it would be your cock."

"Nope." Sam curls his fingers, rubbing over Ryan's prostate, wondering whether to tell him or not. "Wine bottle."

Whimpering softly, Ryan rocks against Sam's hand. When he speaks again, his voice is breathless. "Do you still have it?"

Sam nods. "Yeah." Carefully adding a fourth finger and slowly stretching Ryan open even wider. Mouth soft on his throat at the same time. "I put everything in the back closet."

"Will you let me dig it out some time? Give me another chance?" Ryan murmurs, losing himself in the feeling of Sam opening him.

"Yeah, but right now I want you to come like this, with nothing but my fingers inside you," Sam whispers, his teeth on Ryan's throat, on his skin, marking one spot and then another, his fingers working inside him, stroking, stretching, pushing deeper.

Ryan moans and hitches his knees up, baring his hole for his lover. Those teeth on his throat send shivers through him, lighting him up, every demanding push of Sam's fingers hurtling him closer to the edge. He rocks with the touches, moving faster now, desperately in the moments before he stiffens and comes, sparks flushing his body and a cry on his lips.

"Good boy," Sam breathes, biting softly at Ryan's bared throat, fingers still moving, stroking him through the aftershocks. "Now I want to fuck you."

"Yes, Sir, please," Ryan whimpers, still flooded with his orgasm. God, he needs this. Needs the reconnection of his lover deep inside him. "Please. How do you want me?"

Sam eases his fingers from Ryan's body, wiping them on his shorts. "Lean over the back of the couch," he orders, shifting so Ryan can do so.

Immediately Ryan kneels up, laying his hands on the sofa back and leaning over. Every movement floods him with fire, his bruised ass burning, reminding him how they got here.

Sam stands, shoving his shorts down and kicking them free of his feet. He kneels behind Ryan, cock rigid and wet at its tip, aching to be inside his boy. Places his hands on Ryan's cheeks, spreading them, cockhead nudging against his hole. "Tell me you want it."

Ryan nearly laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. "I want it. God, I want you, Sir. Please." He'd take back everything tonight and not safeword, if only he could. "Please fuck me."

Sam had been going to tease, drag it out, make Ryan beg even more, but the bare need in his lover's voice deters him. He pushes in slowly, letting the tight soft heat envelop him, clenching tight around his cock as he moves deeper. "So good for me," he murmurs.

Dizzy with want, Ryan pushes out to take Sam in, for once not greedily shoving back in demand. His fingers clutch at the sofa cushion and he arches his back, feeling every bit of the slow drive in as an inexorable claiming.

"Oh, fuck," Sam groans, licking his lips, his hands going to Ryan's hips and then up again, to his chest, holding him tight against him as he pushes in all the way, hips rocking in small movements, savouring the pleasure of being inside his boy. He kisses the curve of his shoulder, his throat, teeth scraping against skin again, the pulse there, right under his mouth. Christ.

The sound Ryan makes is nearly a mewl of pleasure as he tilts his head to the side, offering up his throat to his lover. "Please," he whispers.

Sam bites, hard and then harder, sucking roughly at the flesh between his teeth, blood pinpricking to the surface, his hips starting to move a little faster, his cock still buried deep, always deep, throbbing violently with arousal.

Ryan cries out. It's _perfect_ , damn, Sam consuming him, conquering him. His cock is starting to swell again already but his focus is on his lover, making this moment good for him. "Love you," he gasps, clenching around Sam, keeping him close on every pull back, "love you."

"Love _you_ ," Sam grits out, lifting his head for a moment before teeth are back on Ryan, mark after mark placed on his skin. His chest, Christ, his whole body tightening hard, so fucking hard, in the instant before his orgasm slams through him, his cock pulsing hotly again and again and again.

Ryan shouts, feeling every heavy spill inside him. He milks Sam's cock, drawing out each last drop before he slides his hand up his chest to link his fingers with his lover's. Mind-blown.

"I was gonna wait for you," Sam whispers, panting softly, lips brushed over the marks he's made. "But you felt too good."

With a soft laugh Ryan kisses Sam's fingers. He could argue about just which of them feels better right now, but he won't. "Does that mean you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," Sam says, kissing the side of Ryan's throat again. "I was being an ass."

"No, you weren't," Ryan sighs. "We just... we misunderstood each other." Slowly his new erection begins to subside, and the burn in his ass solidifies into a dull throbbing flame. "I was right about one thing, though," he murmurs, grinning wickedly. "You give a hell of a spanking."

Sam chuckles, shifting so he can check out Ryan's ass which is already bruising. "You're gonna have a time sitting down for the next few days."

"Yeah. I'll think of you every time I try it," Ryan murmurs. "Constant reminder."

Sam sits back down, smiling up at Ryan. "Just as long as it's not a constant reminder of our misunderstanding," he says softly, still regretting that their time together took such a fucked up turn.

That smile clutches at Ryan's heart. "Baby," he whispers, straddling Sam's thighs. "Don't worry. Please?" he asks, grazing his lips over Sam's throat.

Sam nods, eyes closing, wrapping his arms around Ryan and holding him close. It's still nagging at him, still bothering him that he's managed to make his lover, his boy, safeword twice in so short a time, but he doesn't want Ryan knowing, doesn't want it anywhere except on his own fucking shoulders.  



End file.
